


Little Lights

by wrote_and_writ



Series: Give Me Liberty to Love You [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 13:18:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4921129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrote_and_writ/pseuds/wrote_and_writ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmastime fluff</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Lights

It was long past midnight when the last of their friends left, most a little worse for wear thanks to Joly's secret family recipe for spiced eggnog. Marius and Cosette were the last to leave, Cosette supporting Marius as he alternately told her how beautiful she was in the show, like a Christmas angel and sang "Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg" over and over -- just that line. Enjolras offered to call a cab and let Cosette stay on their couch, but she merely winked at Grantaire, though she did take Enjolras's offer of the cab.  


Snow blanketed the city, softening the rough edges of the world. The low clouds cast back the glow of streetlamps, and all was bright orange light and sparkling snow and quiet. Grantaire sat in the window seat, leaning against the cool windowpane. He had been very, very good, very nearly sober. He told Bossuet he did not want coal in his stocking and winked lasciviously over Bossuet's shoulder at Enjolras. He kept his hands in his pockets most of the evening, claiming to be cold, but Enjolras noticed the tremor in his hands.  


Enjolras did a cursory sweep of the apartment, picking up anything that might spill or stain or leave a sticky mess. The rest could wait. He turned off the lights in the apartment, leaving only the string of colored lights that circled the small tree on his desk and the white lights that Eponine had tacked up around the windows to light the room.   


"Are you thirsty, Grantaire? Would you like another cup of hot chocolate before bed?"  


Grantaire looked back at him. "If you're having some." He turned back to the window.  


Enjolras frowned. He made a move to go to Grantaire, but stopped himself. Instead, he heated some hot chocolate on the stove, filled two mugs, added generous splashes of peppermint schnapps, topped the mugs with whipped cream, and set them on the container of frosted sugar cookies and gingerbread men Chetta left behind. He sat at the other end of the window seat and put the treats between himself and Grantaire.  


Grantaire accepted the cocoa with a grateful smile. He managed to take a big sip and get whipped cream halfway up his nose. Enjolras wiped it away with his thumb. Grantaire closed his eyes and took another drink. A shadow crossed his face as he tasted the schnapps, but he said nothing about it.   


Enjolras sat back and bit the head of a gingerbread man. They were his favorite cookies, reminding him of the brief span of time when home was something to be treasured. Well, home with his parents. He watched Grantaire absently drink his cocoa. When Grantaire put his mug down, Enjolras reached out and took his hand.  


"You were quiet tonight."  


"I didn't want to get on Santa's naughty list," he replied, though he put no humor into the joke.  


"Grantaire."  


"I'm fine, Enjolras. I'm alright."  


Enjolras squeezed his hand.  


"You'll laugh," Grantaire said, looking back out the window.  


"I promise I won't." He held onto Grantaire's hand and waited.   


"It's stupid, really. I know it is."  


"You are many things, but stupid isn't one of them."  


Grantaire looked at him, a genuine smile lighting his face. "You've known me long enough now to know that's not true."  


"Alright, well, sometimes you are foolish, but who among us isn't?"  


"Regretting being my boyfriend yet?"  


"Never." Enjolras put his mug on the floor and leaned across to kiss Grantaire. "And you're stupid to think I would ever regret that."  


"See. I told you it was true," Grantaire said, but the smile remained. "I'm glad you're foolish." He sat back. "Alright. The thing is, well, honestly, it's stupid, so stupid, but I miss my mother." He gave Enjolras a rueful smile.  


Enjolras sighed. "Oh Grantaire."  


"I told you. Stupid. Why should I miss someone who actively made life a misery when she could be bothered to be active at all? I have you. I have a better family than so many people get. So why should I miss her?"  


"I miss her, too. My mother, I mean. And my grandfather. Assholes to a one, my family. The one I was born into. It's not stupid."  


Grantaire turned back to the window, but Enjolras stood and pulled Grantaire up with him. "Let's watch a movie before bed, yes? Anything you want."  


"Anything? Enjolras, I'm only melancholy. There's no need to baby me."  


"It's Christmas, mon choux, and I am willing to make this great sacrifice because I have a feeling that once we go to bed, what I have planned for you will get me a permanent spot on the naughty list."  


Grantaire quirked an eyebrow. "Is it terrible that I really, really want more cookies?"  


Enjolras barked a laugh. "No, my love, it is not." He led Grantaire to the sofa and handed him the tin of cookies. "What are we going to watch?"  


Grantaire was busy wrapping afghans around himself. "Oh, okay, okay. I know you hate this movie, but--"  


"No."  


"You said anything."  


"I know, but Grantaire, it's Christmas. Have pity on me."  


"The English showed no pity."  


"Grantaire."  


"No mercy at all."  


"Grantaire."  


"He wanted only justice! Freedom!"  


"Oh god. Okay. Okay. We will watch this. We will watch this movie on one condition."  


"You never said anything about conditions."  


"Grantaire, please. We will watch Braveheart, but please, please, I'm begging you, please, do not follow me around calling me William Wallace for the next week. I have a rally just after New Year's, and I need people to take it seriously. Do not call me Wallace, do not show up at the rally with blue face paint, do not moon the police, for God's sake."  


"I make no promises," Grantaire said. He patted the spot beside him on the couch. "But I bet you can think of some creative way to make me forget. You have a couple hours. You're smart. And if not, well, you can always distract me with cookies."  


"I swear, if you call me Wallace, I will call you the Princess of France."  


"And I'd look damn good in a crown."  


Enjolras gave up. He'd succeeded in cheering Grantaire, and he was reasonably sure it would not come at too great a cost. Grantaire was right. He could come up with some creative ways to distract Grantaire once they retired to bed. But for now, he curled up beside his boyfriend, tucked the afghan around them, and accepted the gingerbread man Grantaire held out to him. He ignored the Scottish rebels and instead focused on the way the little lights lit the room, the heat radiating from Grantaire, the snap of ginger and the contented sigh of his lover.  



End file.
